Dangerous Masquerade
by dangerousaddiction9
Summary: Rukia kuchiki and her glamorous cousin, Riruka, look almost identical. The operative word being "almost." When Riruka lands her first movie role, and doesn't have time to visit her millionaire fiance Ichigo Kurosaki's family, she convinces Rukia to go and pretend to be her. chaos ensues when Ichigo shows up unexpectedly, and obviously isn't fooled by this ruse.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I donot own bleach.I repeat, I donot own it. TITE KUBO does.**

 **Summery:** Rukia kuchiki and her glamorous cousin, Riruka, look almost identical. The operative word being "almost." When Riruka lands her first movie role, and doesn't have time to visit her millionaire fiance Ichigo Kurosaki's family, she convinces Rukia to go and pretend to be her. But when Ichigo shows up unexpectedly, and obviously isn't fooled by this ruse, he begins to question his own relationship...and wonders if perhaps Riruka isn't the one he's been looking for.

CHAPTER 1

THE afternoon sun tried desperately to pierce the hazy smog that lay like a dirty halo over Los Angeles, the City of the Angels. There was nothing angelic about the traffic in the streets, racing about like lemmings on their self-destructive path to the sea. Rukia's cab driver weaved and honked his way through the three lanes of bumper-to-bumper vehicles while she braced herself for the collision that never came. An irate motorist shook his fist at the taxi that cut in front of him and Rukia sank a little deeper in her corner. She knew she could never drive as aggressively as the scowling man behind the wheel, although her cousin Riruka had no such compunction.

The thought of Riruka drew a weary sigh from Rukia

she was supposed to have been back at their apartment before noon. Her fiery cousin would be furious with her. It wouldn't make any difference, that she had been helping Aunt Rangiku, Riruka's mother, prepare for her women's organization annual charity ball. Nor would it matter that it had been her aunt who had volunteered her services as event manager without consulting Rukia. No, her aunt had presented it to her as an accomplished fact with a snide comment that someone should get some benefit from Rukia's bachelore's degree in meeting and event management.

Resentment flared briefly in Rukia. Her own parents had been killed in a car crash when she was only seven. Her mother had no living relatives, which left Reiji kuchiki, her father's brother, with Rukia. She dearly loved her uncle Rei who was so much like the slowly fading recollections of her father. It should have been an ideal solution for her to come to live with Reiji kuchiki, his wife Rangiku and their own daughter Riruka who was only nine months younger than Rukia. It might have been if Uncle Rei hadn't been so wrapped up in his career and Aunt Rangiku hadn't devoted every minute to her only a sensitive seven-year-old, Rukia had been quick to realize that their world revolved around Riruka. Memories of her aunt's parties where Riruka was paraded in front of the women who gathered came drifting back.

Half the time Aunt Rangiku had forgotten to mention Rukia except to refer to her in passing as their 'little orphan'. The remark hadn't meant to be unkind, but deprived as she was of the secure world of her parents' love, the constant reminder of her status had hurt. And Rukia had been glad to stay in the background while her vivacious, confident cousin occupied the spotlight.

Although she had gone to the same schools as Riruka, had an equally beautiful bedroom across the hall from her cousin's, and on the surface had been treated as a member of the family,Rukia had looked forward to her high school graduation. Against the wishes of both her aunt and uncle, she had used the last of her father's money to take a course in event management and thus have the means of earning her own living without being dependent on what had become the charity of her aunt and uncle. There had been a few months of sweet success with money she had earned herself in her pocket every week. Then, beautiful Riruka was out of school, intent on taking a trip to hawaii. Riruka was an adult. She wouldn't consider letting her parents accompany her and they wouldn't consider allowing her to go by herself. The compromise was that Rukia should go with her. Feebly Rukia had attempted to protest, knowing her position in the typing pool of the large firm could be filled by someone else at a moment's notice. But the look in her aunt's eyes had plainly said that Rukia owed it to them to give up her job—after all, they had raised her. Rukia had given in, the yoke of forced gratitude bowing her head.

After Hawaii, it had been something else, finally culminating in Riruka's demand to have an apartment of her own. It was a request that was fulfilled after Rukia had agreed to live there as well. Any display of rebellion by Rukia was always met by the same reproachful looks that reminded her of the everlasting gratitude she owed with an added "How lucky you are not to have to work for a living." A bitter smile flitted across her lips. She was a companion to her cousin, provided with room and board and a clothing allowance, at the mercy of Riruka's whims and the dictates of her aunt. She was twenty-one-without a life of her own or friends of her own.

"This is it, lady," the cab driver growled over his shoulder.

With a start Rukia realized the taxi had stopped in front of the luxurious high-rise building that housed her apartment. A quick glance at the meter sent her rummaging through her purse for her wallet. she handed him the money. sending a breathless 'thank you' over her shoulder, she crawledout of the back seat.

Inside the lushly carpeted lobby with its many urns of potted foliage, Rukia was greeted warmly by the essentric security guard. "Good afternoon, Miss Kuchiki."

"How are you today,Kisuke ?" she returned in equally friendly tones.

"Just fine"

"I'm running late today." A wry grimace revealed the twin dimples in hercheeks. "My cousin expected me back before noon and here it is nearly three."

"I believe your cousin is out." Noting the look of surprise on her face, headded, "She swept out of here about an hour after you did this morning and I'm almost certain she hasn't returned."

That meant absolutely nothing had been done since Rukia had left. Now that she had returned before her cousin everything would surely fall on her shoulders, so with a resigned shake of her head, she smiled her thanks to the security guard and hurried towards the lifts.

As Rukia walked out of the lift towards her apartment, she blamed the brief spate of self-pity on the tight, sore muscles in her neck and shoulders, her reward for sitting in front of a laptop for nearly six solid hours. Her future wasn't bleak. There was a bright spot not too far away. Riruka was engaged to be married and the tentative wedding date was only four months away.

Then she,Rukia , would be free to live her own life as she chose, but she knew the next few months would be hectic. The sight of dresses, evening gowns, and trouser suits tossed over every available piece of furniture greeted Rukia as she walked into the living room of the apartment. A resigned dullness clouded her eyes as she recognized her cousin's helter-skelter method of choosing clothes from her extensive wardrobe to be packed in the empty suitcases set to the side. There was typically no note telling Rukia where Riruka was going or when she would be back. Riruka Kuchiki was a law unto her own self, answerable to no one.

A moment's qualm shuddered through Rukia as she considered her cousin's engagement. It had all begun almost two months ago when Riruka had attended another one of those elegant Hollywood cocktail parties, secretly nursing her childhood wish to be "discovered" and become a famous movie star. Rukia never went. The artificial atmosphere of surface gaiety underlined by malicious backstabbing revolted her. It had been unusually early when Riruka returned from this particular party and Rukia had still been up. Her cousin had swept into the apartment, her calculating blue eyes glittering with suppressed excitement.

"I've just met the man I'm going to marry!" she had announced.

Rukia had been astounded, too familiar with her cousin's indifference to her most ardent admirers to take her seriously.

"Don't laugh, darling," Riruka had smiled wryly. "This man is one in a million and I intend to have him."

"I just can't believe you could fall in love with a man you only met tonight." Rukia had shrugged her shoulders in amusement.

"Oh, I haven't fallen in love with him, but he certainly has everything to ensure that I do," her cousin had replied, tossing her evening wrap on the back of the couch before she curled on its cushions looking like the cat that had stolen the cream.

"You aren't making any sense."

"Aren't I?" Riruka had replied smugly. "You wait!"

Her cousin had refused to discuss it any further, preferring the cloak of mystery to any childish confidences. The following morning had brought a delivery of a dozen red roses with a note requesting dinner that evening, but had, strangely enough, been ready the instant the doorbell rang, preventing Rukia from meeting her mysterious caller. Flowers arrived daily after that, and always long-stemmed red recognized the bold, decisive handwriting on the accompanying cards as the same as the first.

None were ever signed nor bore any outpourings of undying love. The messages were always crisp and concise, thanking Riruka for the previous evening or making arrangements for another.

It was almost two weeks to the day since Riruka had made her announcement before rukia had met the man her cousin's whole world had become centred around. Then it had been quite by accident.

Rukia had just washed her hair and had wrapped it in a towel. Cleansing cream was smeared over her face when the doorbell had rang. Grumbling that Riruka had probably misplaced her key, rukia had raced to the door, robed in a red caftan, a cast-off of Riruka's that looked too big for her even in its loosely fitting style.

Without any inquiries as to who might be on the other side of the door, she had flung it open to stare in open-mouthed surprise at the imposing figure framed by the door. The man was over six foot, dressed in an impeccably tailored grey suit that revealed his whipcord leanness while accenting the breadth of his shoulders and the narrowness of his hips. His hair was most distinguishable orange locks was combed back from his tanned forehead. The arrogant slash of his jawline complemented the aristocratic line of his nose with strength etched in the powerful cheekbones and the bronzed hollow of his cheeks. The cruel set of his mouth drew her attention for a brief moment before her startled gaze raced to meet the hooded look of his hazel brown eyes.

"Who… who are you?" she had stumbled, unnerved to the point of wanting to shut the door in his face.

his brows lifted slightly to let the glimmer of arrogant amusement shine from his eyes. "Is Miss kuchiki in?" His low voice had the decidedly authoritative ring of a man used to commanding and having other people obey.

"Riruka?" she had asked stupidly before rushing in, "No, no, she isn't here right now. May I tell her who called?"

His eyes had flicked with merciless thoroughness over her dishevelled person. "You are her cousin," he had stated.

The slowly drying cleansing cream had hidden the sudden race of embarrassed pink in her could only swallow and nod that she was Riruka's cousin.

"Would you tell her that I called and offer my apologies for not being able to keep our engagement this evening." A slender, tanned hand reached inside the breast pocket of his jacket and removed a long narrow green velvet box which he handed to Rukia. His voice was tinged with cynical mockery as he explained, "A gift for Miss Riruka."

In that instant it dawned on Rukia that this had to be Riruka's mysterious suitor, at least mysterious to her because she had never met him. Her cousin had made many insinuations that the man was extraordinarily rich as well as strikingly handsome and charming. Now that she had met him, Rukia couldn't think of him as handsome. Striking, yes. Overpowering, definitely. Masculine, undoubtedly, but there was too much hardness and unrelenting strength in his features for him to be handsome, yet possessing a magnetism that couldn't be ignored. Still, he was not the type of man Rukia would ever want as a husband or lover, let alone a friend. And heaven help her if she should ever make an enemy of him, because Rukia knew with certainty that he would be a dangerous man to cross.

The expensive jewellery box in her hand seemed to catch fire, burning her fingers. Rukia wanted no part of him or anything that belonged to him. Hurriedly she tried to shove it back into his grasp.

"You'd better give it to her yourself, Mr.-Mr.—" Wildly Rukia realized that she still didn't know his name.

"Kurosaki," he supplied smoothly, with an imperious nod of his head,

"Ichigo Kurosaki." The name was vaguely familiar, but as flustered as Rukia was, she couldn't immediately place why. There was a twisted, cynical smile curling one corner of his mouth as he refused to take back the gift meant for her cousin. "I don't think it will matter very much to Riruka who actually hands her the present, you or I. I don't have time to argue the point with you. Please give her my message and," flicking a finger at the green velvet box clutched in Rukia's hand, "the gift."

Rukia had been left standing in the doorway watching him stride to the lift.

Two hours later, Riruka had returned, furious when Rukia told her of Ichigo Kurosaki's visit, but suitably mollified when she saw the jewellery box. Rukia had tried to explain that she thought Riruka would have preferred to give it to her himself, but her cousin was already exclaimingover the diamond and ruby-studded bracelet inside the green case.

"What difference does it make who gives it to me?" she had said, laying the bracelet across her wrist and holding it up to the light in silent appraisal, "as long as it came from him."

That was almost an exact echo of his sentiments. In her own case, Rukia knew she would have wanted to receive the gift directly from the giver, especially something as expensive as that bracelet, which considering the cost, she would probably have refused.

"Well, what did you think of Ichigo?" Riruka was studying Rukia's thoughtful expression.

Her impression was not what Riruka would want to hear, so Rukia chose a middle ground. "He was a bit older than I expected."

"Twenty-nine isn't old," her cousin had replied scornfully. The dark eyes had returned to the bracelet. "Besides, he's not only rich and powerful, he's also very well known. There isn't a woman born who wouldn't want to marry him."

Rukia knew one—herself. The man she would marry would be gentle and tender, not someone who would dominate anyone in his presence and bend them to his will.

"Who is he?" She still hadn't been able to place where she had heard his name before.

Riruka had laughed, a throaty, sexy laugh she had practised until it no longer contained any amusement although it was pleasing to the ear. "Rukia, you're so incredibly ignorant! Ichigo Kurosaki owns the Zangetsu hotel chain, among many other things."

The article in the newspaper had come flooding back to her, touting the news that Ichigo Kurosaki was in town after opening one of his hotels in Mexico and in the process of negotiating the construction of another in some resort area in South America. Rukia also remembered that he was known for his ruthless manipulation of people, as well as the ongoing string of beauties photographed at his side.

When Rukia had realized it was Ichigo Kurosaki her cousin was trying to steer to the altar, she hadn't given her cousin two pins for her chances. During the weeks succeeding Rukia's meeting with him, there had been more presents, each more expensive than the previous, more dates with Riruka, one more casual meeting with Rukia where Ichigo Kurosaki practically ignored her existence, and finally the stunning news almost a week ago that

Riruka was engaged to the Ichigo Kurosaki.

Her cousin could take care of herself, but Rukia still thought she was making a grievous mistake. The very day after her engagement Riruka had been in a temper that not even the sapphire flanked by diamonds in her engagement ring could assuage, because Ichigo Kurosaki refused any publicity regarding their engagement. And more than anything else, Riruka wanted to be in the spotlight. Rukia had known that he wasn't the type of man to be swayed by stormy scenes or a woman's tears. Riruka had been forced to comply with his wishes.

The only other tantrum that her cousin had thrown had been when Ichigo was not present. The day before yesterday he had decreed that Riruka was to visit his aunt in Mobile, Alabama while he flew to South America on business. Rukia had a sneaking suspicion that Ichigo Kurosaki knew that without his presence Riruka would flaunt her engagement to the press and public. In front of him, Riruka had meekly agreed to the trip, only to storm in angrily at the injustice of it after he had gone and Rukia had entered the room.

Ichigo had left for South America yesterday. Riruka had her airline ticket for Mobile verifying her reservation for tomorrow afternoon. Rukia stared at the haphazard array of clothes to be sorted and packed for her cousin's journey. She sighed at the wrinkled piles, knowing most of them would need pressing, and Riruka's ineptitude with an iron was notorious; she scorched nearly everything she touched.

Carefully Rukia began folding the scattered pieces of lingerie and stacking them into a neat pile in preparation of packing one of the smaller scarlet cases. She knew her selection of dresses, trouser suits, and gowns would not be her cousin's. There was no choice but to leave them until Riruka returned.

The front door to the apartment swung open and Riruka glided into the front room, her dark blue eyes dancing with barely suppressed excitement and her crimson lips spreading into a wide, joyous smile. Rukia always felt so colourless when her cousin entered a room, so vibrantly alive and stunningly sensuous. The room could be crowded, yet all eyes would be turned towards Riruka, like moths dancing worshipfully about a flame.

"I have the most glorious news!" Riruka bubbled, spinning and pivoting about the room like a captivating gypsy, beautiful dark magenta hair floating around her neck while her flared skirt whirled to allow a glimpse of shapely thighs.

"It's fantastic! Absolutely magnificent!"

"What is it?" Rukia asked, fascinated by this sirenlike creature who was her cousin.

After being in constant motion since entering the room, Riruka stopped,enjoying the suspense that was building around her before she announced,"I'm going to be in a movie!"

Rukia's mouth opened and closed several times as her curious violet eyes stared unbelievingly at the smug expression. "What are you talking about? What movie? How?" she breathed at last.

"Kugo Ginjo, the producer, cast me today." Her eyes gleamed with

diamond brilliance. "I met him at a party last week with Ichigo and he called me today to test for a part in his new picture. And I got it!" For one fleeting moment, all sophistication was cast aside as Riruka hugged herself with childish glee. "I have almost twenty pages of dialogue. I always dreamed about this."

"When does it happen?" Rukia was so stunned by the news she couldn't think straight. "Where will you film? When do you start?"

"I have fittings for my costumes tomorrow." A graceful hand caressed the smooth column of her throat as her cousin became again the self-assured young woman. "I'll be a princess in Czarist Russia. They're going on location somewhere in Europe, but all of my scenes will be shot at the studio. Worse luck!" she finished with a dismissive grimace.

Rukia looked down at the dress in her hand, the congratulatory expression receding from her face. She glanced apprehensively at her cousin.

"You're supposed to leave tomorrow to visit Ichigo's aunt in Mobile."

The back of Riruka's dark head was turned towards her. "I know," her cousin murmured, her enthusiasm dying as quickly as a flame being extinguished. She spun around quickly, her blue eyes dark and imploring.

"Rukia, what am I going to do? It's what I've wanted since I was a child. The chance of a lifetime! the director said I was a natural for the part."

Silently Rukia agreed, seeing the regal fire of a princess in her tempestuous cousin. "Call Ichigo and explain what happened. Persuade him to postpone your visit to his aunt's." It was beyond Rukia's power to resist this sudden desire of Riruka's for her help.

There was a petulant droop to her cousin's mouth. "I don't know where he's staying. Even if I did …" She left the thought-unfinished as she gazed earnestly at Rukia, seeming to beg for her understanding. "You see, Ichigo …"

Riruka's sudden loss for words touched Rukia's heart more than any eloquence could have done. "I don't think… he would approve. You know how autocratic he is at times. I… I'm sure he wouldn't like it if I appeared in a film. But,Rukia, I want it so much." Diamond tears hovered on the edge of her lashes. "If… if only there was some way I could do it as one last fling before I… I get married, fulfilling one little dream I've always had."

"Surely there is some way," Rukia murmured, confusion deepening her brilliant blue eyes.

"Kugo… Mr. Ginjo said they would probably shoot my scenes right away since they're filming that sequence first. He doubted whether it would last longer than three weeks at the outside," Riruka mused aloud, sinking forlornly on the sofa. A tight laugh tinkled out with bitter notes. "Not much longer than my visit to Ichigo's aunt."

"Perhaps you could call her and explain the circumstances," Rukia suggested practically, missing the speculative gleam bestowed on her by her cousin.

"And have her tell Ichigo? Then he really would be angry with me," Riruka sighed, looking suddenly like a shadow of her former self. "I couldn't feign illness and plead a cold or the flu. Ichigo might find out and come flying back to see that I was cared for adequately."

A measure of her cousin's sadness transferred itself to Rukia. "It seems the only solution is to turn down the part and carry out your original intention of visiting Ichigo's aunt," she concluded sombrely

"The only problem with that is I've already signed a contract to appear inthe film." The rustle of the chiffon dress lying beside Riruka's sounded like electricity crackling in the sudden silence of the room. "If I don't fulfil the terms, the studio can sue me and Daddy."

"Oh, Riruka, no!"Rukia gasped. "Why did you do it? Why did you sign it without at least thinking over what you were doing? You've placed yourself and your family in a terrible position!"

"You have to understand," Riruka pleaded, leaning forward to gaze with tear-clouded eyes into Rukia's expression of displeasure. "It happened in an impulsive moment when I was still pinching myself that I'd actually been offered the part. Before I knew what I was doing, I saw my signature on the contract. Now do you understand my dilemma? I don't want to risk my engagement to Ichigo, nor do I want to hurt my parents."

As if the whole thing was more than Riruka could bear, she burst into tears, amazingly looking more beautiful and feminine than before. Tears had no more than dampened her cheeks than they stopped, a look of determination spreading over her cousin's face.

"I mustn't feel sorry for myself," Riruka declared firmly. "I know I got myself into this mess and it's not fair to ask you to help me out of it. But surely the two of us can think of some solution."

Rukis smiled tentatively in sympathy with her cousin while her shoulders and head moved indicating the blankness of her mind to find a way out of the intolerable situation.

Riruka rose to her feet and walked to the large picture window that dominated the apartment's living room.

"What I need to do is split myself in half," Riruka tossed the words halfhumorously over her shoulder. "One half could go to Mobile and the other half could do the picture."

"An ideal solution if you could do it," Rukia laughed lightly, needing the levity to break the heavy tension in the air.

Her cousin turned around, staring at her raven-haired relative while a light radiated with increasing brilliance from Riruka's face. "I think I know how we can do it," she breathed. "I know we can!"

"What is it?" Rukia demanded as Riruka raced from the window to clasp her hands, transmitting the excitement from Riruka to her.

"You take my place." Mischief danced brightly out of blue eyes at the aghast expression emanating from the bluish-violet ones. "I know it sounds

outrageous and impossible, but it could work! I just know it will work!"

"You mean, I should go to Mobile," Rukia swallowed, feeling herself

drawn into a whirlpool of her cousin's enthusiasm, "instead of you?"

"It's so simple!" Riruka exclaimed. "Why didn't we think of it before? His aunt has no idea what I look like, except that I'm a brunette and so are you.

Ichigo told me himself that he hardly ever sees her, so the chance of running into her after we're married will be very slim. She won't be coming to the wedding, which is why I'm visiting her now."

"But Ichigo will find out about the film," Rukia protested half-heartedly.

"I can convince him that I did it before we were engaged. You know how long it takes to make a film, edit it, and get it out to the theatres. By the time he finds out about it, it will all be in the past. Over and done with," Riruka declared. "Please,Rukia, you must do it—if not for me, then for Daddy."

Rukia could feel herself giving in, surrendering to the habit of sacrificing her desires to show her gratitude for the people who had brought her up. But the prospect of masquerading as Riruka frightened her into raising another objection, however weak it might seem.

"I could never remember to answer if his aunt addressed me as Riruka. I would constantly be looking around for you."

"There isn't that much difference between Rukia and Riruka,"her cousin answered sharply before tempering her irritation. "Tell her Rukia is your nickname. She'll believe you."

"I don't like it. what will you do about the hair? Yours is magenta , while mine is black"

" we will dye it to magenta. Other than this Do you have a better suggestion?"

Rukia was forced to admit that she didn't. Except for the deception involved, she could find nothing wrong with the mechanics of Riruka's plan.

Rukia never actually said she would do it, but the agreement was in her silence. And Riruka was quick to put the plan into action, keeping up a steady stream of chatter about the clothes Rukia would have to pack, trying to convince her what an adventure she would have. The chilling thought kept returning to Rukia that there would be hell to pay if Ichigo Kurosaki ever found out about this masquerade.

XXXXXX

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	2. Chapter 2

HELLO READERS. THANKYOU FOR YOUR WONDERFUL REVIEWS, FOLLOWS AND YOU WOULD LIKE THIS CHAPTER!

RIGHT up to the minute she had boarded the plane Rukia kept hoping some other solution would present itself, but the doors had closed and she had been on her way to Mobile, Alabama, masquerading as her cousin Riruka kuchiki.

The waters of the Gulf of Mexico were a shimmering deep turquoise in the late afternoon sun as the plane made its approach to land. After checking her seat belt to be sure it was securely fastened, Rukia put a reassuring hand to her now dyed magenta hair, verifying that no loose strand had escaped the shining coil around her head. She had chosen the more sophisticated style to give her the poise she needed to carry out this daring charade. There was barely a crease in her warm apricot travelling suit, but she loosened the knotted neck scarf that matched the apricot and yellow flowered silk blouse. The soft features of her oval face looked serene and composed except for the deep blue of her eyes mirroring the anxiety that brought a dryness to her throat.

Rukia knew she was to be met at the airport. As the passengers disembarked, she listened intently for her cousin's name to be announced over the loudspeaker. She kept assuring herself that nothing could go wrong. Masaki Kurosaki, Ichigo's aunt, had no picture of Riruka and, at best, only the sketchiest details of what she looked like. With only the slightest stretch of the imagination, Rukia could fit the description with her now dyed magenta hair.

The palms of her hand became filmed with a nervous sweat as Rukia watched her fellow passengers being met by friends and relatives. She followed the mainstream of travellers to the baggage area, keeping her ear attuned to the loudspeaker. The more time that went by without hearing her cousin's name, the stronger the urge became to take the first plane back to Los Angeles. Tricking an old woman into believing she was Ichigo's fiancée seemed so deceitfully wrong, regardless of the motives.

Minutes later the assorted sizes of Riruka's scarlet suitcases were gathered around Rukia's feet. The sapphire ring on her finger felt as cold as ice, condemning her part in this charade. What was she to do now? she wondered anxiously. No one had come forward to meet her. Rukia had no address for Ichigo's aunt, only the name Masaki Kurosaki. The whole plan was becoming more hopeless with each heart-pounding second.

"Pardon me."

A hand touched her shoulder and she turned with a convulsive jerk. A tall young man with shiny black hair was smiling down at her. Her blue eyes were wide and frightened as she stared into his handsome face.

"Are you by any chance Riruka Kuchiki?"

Paralysing fear robbed rukia's of her speech. His searching Aqua marine eyes seemed to unmask her even as she nodded a hesitant assertion that she was Riruka.

"What a relief!" he laughed shortly, extending his hand towards her in

greeting. "I'm Kaien shiba. Masaki Kurosaki asked me to meet you, but I got caught up in traffic and your plane was already in when I arrived." His manner was apologetic, but matter-of-factly courteous. He was a man quite used to charming his way out of a situation. "I was just going to have you paged when I saw you standing here looking so …" his gaze roamed admiringly over her, "so lost."

High colour rose in her cheeks, her guilty conscience knowing that if she had truly been Riruka she would not have looked lost, but impatiently angry at being kept waiting. A glint of amusement gleamed from Kaien's eyes at the delicate blush in her cheeks. He appreciated rare and beautiful objects and knew he was looking at one.

"Are these your cases?" He politely redirected her thoughts, allowing her to compose herself.

"Yes," Rukia answered breathlessly, wondering if he thought their numbers too many for only a fortnight's visit, but Riruka had directed the packing, supplementing Rukia's scant wardrobe with her own. "I came prepared for any contingency," she explained with a nervous smile.

"You'll find the Gulf Coast climate is quite mild in the middle of February with a few cool, rainy days thrown in so one can appreciate the sunshine," kaien smiled, motioning to a porter to take the luggage. "My car is right outside."

A gentle hand on the back of her waist urged her towards the doors leading out of the airport. kaien ushered her towards a silver volkwagen parked near the kerb. Rukia watched as he supervised the loading of her suitcase in the boot, idly thinking a charming boy should have a charming car. Now that she was truly committed to carrying out the masquerade some of her tension eased.

She was able to smile quite naturally when kaien helped her into the passenger side of the car before he slipped behind the wheel.

"Is Mrs. Kurosaki's home very far?" she asked.

"A few miles outside of the city proper," he answered smoothly, putting the car into gear and driving out of the parking area. He slid a twinkling glance

her way.

"Have you known her long?" Rukia inquired.

"My father's estate adjoins hers, which is why I was deputised to meet you at the airport," he explained. "Masaki doesn't care for crowds or she would have met you herself. She's quite anxious to meet you, Riruka. I may call you Riruka?"

Rukia liked the soft way his eyes regarded her, mildly caressive without being objectionable, and his slow, drawling voice that was a balm to her jangled nerves. "My friends call me Rukia," she said with a quick breath, wishing she could so easily divorce herself from Riruka's plans as she did from her name.

"I would be pleased to call you Rukia, too, if you call me Kaien."

"Thank you… Kaien." A genuine smile lighting her face for the first time.

"I must confess," his attention returned to the road ahead of them, "the Judge—my father—and I had a bet as to what you would look like." At Rukia's wide-eyed look of surprise, kaien laughed. "You've been the subject of many curious speculations since the great Ichigo Kurosaki announced that he was engaged. Masaki had decided he would never marry."

Her hands were clenched tightly in her lap as she tried to appear only mildly interested in the subject, unconsciously twisting the snug sapphire ring on her finger. She must remain calm, she told herself, and not let Ichigo Kurosaki's name upset her. Her name was going to be coupled with his quite often in these next weeks and she must become accustomed to it.

"How do I measure up to your expectations?" forcing a lightness to her voice that she didn't feel.

"I thought you would be a beautiful, temperamental woman with a sensual allure that no man could resist." his Aqua marine eyes glinted with amusement, while Rukia thought what an accurate description that was of Riruka.

"The Judge, on the other hand, thought you would be a quiet and retiring woman, submitting yourself quite meekly to the pressure of Ichigo's thumb."

"A sacrificial lamb," Rukia supplied softly, turning her gaze out the window and thinking how true it was in the respect that she always seemed to be bowing to her cousin's caprices. Although she certainly would never bow to Ichigo Kurosaki. A tiny smile brought her dimples into play as Rukia thought how ironic it was that she had been determined to have no part of the overpowering Ichigo Kurosaki, and here she was pretending to be his fiancée.

"You're hardly a lamb." Kaien's drawling voice drew her back. "A beautiful Madonna with a touch of the Mona Lisa, a curious mixture of the serene and the sensual. I believe the Judge and I were both right and wrong." The sincerity of his compliment disconcerted Rukia. She was too used to comparing herself with Riruka and seeing a pale shadow of the more colourful and exciting peacock. Most all of the men she had met were usually cast-off admirers of Riruka, or entranced with her cousin the instant they were introduced. It had always hurt to know she was second-best, like now when she was a substitute for Riruka.

"I think you're too generous with your compliments, Mr. Shiba." Her

candid protest came from a realistic appraisal of her own attraction.

"I thought we agreed it was to be Kaien," he teased gently. "There's no need to be modest either, although it's refreshing. That ring on your finger is an affirmation of your beauty. It also solves another riddle."

"What's that?" Rukia seized the opportunity to turn the subject away from any more lavish praise which only embarrassed, her since it was so undeserved.

"You know that Ichigo's parents died when he was in his teens, Between his grandfather and Masaki, they raised him. With his grandfather's death ten years ago, Masaki took custody of the family jewels." Unknowingly Kaien was filling in some of the gaps in Ichigo's background that Rukia didn't know, and Riruka either hadn't known or hadn't thought important to tell her. "When Ichigo flew down one morning a couple of weeks ago to select one of the rings from the family collection, Masaki was surprised that he had chosen the sapphire instead of the more traditional diamond solitaire studded with pearls. Only Masaki, and now perhaps you, would dare question any of Ichigo's decisions, but Masaki did this time. She said he'd remarked that the sapphire and diamond ring would be more suitable for his bride-to-be. As usual, Ichigo was right."

"How do you mean?" Rukia asked blankly, inwardly shrinking from the weight of the stone on her finger. Rukia lowered his gaze from another minute inspection of her face to the gleaming, richly blue stone. "No other jewel could match the lovely blue colour of your eyes. Oh, yes," he mused softly, "I do see how you've been able to ensnare the elusive Ichigo Kurosaki."

Play-acting. An innocent game of pretend. That was what Riruka had called it in the security of their Los Angeles apartment. Carrying it out was not at all like their conversations. Rukia hadn't realized how cheap she would feel until she saw how her cousin's intrigue had wrapped Kaien so completely in their web of deceit.

"How much farther is it?" Her voice was sharper than she intended it to be, but she couldn't stand any more of this talk of her engagement to Ichigo. As she stared out the window at the thinning residential area giving way to pine trees, she wondered how she was going to be able to go through with this deception when she was filled with so much self-loathing only an hour after her arrival in Mobile.

"There's no need to warn me of my place," Kaein chuckled, meeting Rukia's confused glance briefly. "I'm fully cognizant that you're one of Ichigo's possessions. The thought of confronting him will keep me from making any advances that I might consider in other circumstances."

Rukia realized that he thought her quick change of subject was because she thought he was becoming too familiar. "Oh, I didn't mean that. I'm sorry," she apologized quickly, "I didn't mean to sound rude. I'm anxious about meeting Mrs. Kurosaki, I suppose." That was a half truth. She wasn't anxious. She was dreading it, knowing that Kaien's inquisition was nothing compared to what Ichigo 's aunt would probably put her through.

"I wouldn't worry whether Masaki will approve of you or not. She's been wanting Ichigo to marry for years. She'll adore any woman who gets him to the altar." There was a blessed moment of silence as Kaien turned off the main road on to a peaceful tree-lined drive in the countryside. "Ichigo has been very closemouthed about you, but then he is about everything. Tell me, how did you meet?"

"At a party in Hollywood."

"That's a surprise." An eyebrow raised slightly. "Ichigo has always abhorred those gushy affairs. You don't seem the type who would like that artificial atmosphere either."

"I don't," Rukia answered honestly, inhaling deeply before plunging into the business of pretend. "Perhaps that was the reason Ichigo," how his name stuck in her throat! "noticed me. We left at an outrageously early hour when he offered me a ride home. He asked me out to dinner the following night, and there you have it."

"Love at first sight, huh?" A statement not requiring an answer from Rukia.

"Those two stone pillars on your right," Kaein directed her attention through the car window, "mark the entrance to the Judge's home. The flame pink azaleas ahead is where Masaki's lane begins."

"How beautiful!" Rukia murmured, catching sight of the brilliant flowered bushes.

"We've had a mild winter. They're blooming early this year," he commented idly, "which will make the Mardi Gras week just that more colourful."

"Mardi Gras? Are you going to New Orleans?" she asked as he made the turn into the lane.

"Traitorous words," he mocked severely. "Mobile is the American home of Mardi Gras, where it was first celebrated and still is, but without the publicity that New Orleans receives."

"I didn't know that."

"There are quite a few people who don't. The parades and festivities start this week, so you'll be able to see it for yourself."

Covertly Rukia studied Kaien, judging the immaculately dressed man to be no older than his late twenties. Instinct said he would be an entertaining and informative escort to the traditional carnival event. But such thoughts couldn't be allowed, so she shifted her gaze to the numerous magnolias and oak trees scattered over the well kept lawn. The narrow drive ended in a cul-de-sac in front of a scaled-down version of a brick mansion. Red masonry was contrasted by four white columns rising in front of the main entrance to support an upper balcony with white shutters flanking the windows on both storeys. Flowers were everywhere with tropical profusion. Azaleas, roses, and more that Rukia didn't recognize.

From the corner of the house, a young girl came gliding gracefully towards the Volkswagen and stopped in front of the steps, a basket of freshly cut flowers on her arm. There was a light golden tan to her skin and her hair was an attractive shade of orange, so similar to Ichigo's. No mention had been made of a female Rukia's age, and she wondered who this youthfully slender girl was.

"Here comes Masaki," Colin smiled, getting out of the car and walking around to open the passenger door.

Rukia glanced towards the still closed door of the house looking for the elderly woman who was to be her hostess. There was no sign of anyone but the approaching girl.

"I've been waiting so long," the girl's melodic voice brought Rukia's wandering gaze back to her. "I was beginning to decide I should have gone to the airport with you,Kaien, to make sure you didn't spirit her away."

Only at closer quarters was Rukia able to see the betraying lines of age marring the slender throat and crinkling the corners of sparkling light hazel eyes,A shade lighter and more comforting than her nephew's cold amber gaze. The hair wasn't totally orange; it hade grey hairs, but styled youthfully with gently curling waves that enhanced the patrician features. All of Riruka's images of a doddering, senile old woman were blown away with the wide welcoming smile Kurosaki Masaki turned on Rukia after Kaien had brushed his lips against the smooth, proffered cheek. A whimsical smile touched Rukia's mouth as she remembered her concern over spending two weeks with an older woman and having staid conversations about Ichigo Kurosaki. Meeting her hostess showed her there was nothing staid and dull about Masaki Kurosaki. She exhibited boundless energy and a totally outgoing nature.

"If she'd been anyone else other than Ichigo's fiancée, I would have," Kaein was saying. "But as she is, I brought her safely to you."

A beautifully manicured hand reached out for Rukia's. "I'm so happy you could come, Riruka," Masaki declared with obvious pleasure and sincerity "You're just as I hoped you would be."

"It was very kind of you to ask me to come, ," Rukia replied, accepting the warm greeting and knowing she was going to like this woman more than was good.

"Kindness had nothing to do with it," the woman laughed. "The invitation was born from my insatiable curiosity and the desire to meet the girl who's going to marry my only nephew. And I insist that you call me Masaki." After releasing Rukia's hand, the older woman put her arm around Rukia's slim shoulders and directed her towards the house, ordering airily over her shoulder for Kaein to bring in the luggage. "We must have a drink to celebrate your arrival. You will stay to join us, won't you, Kaien?"

"You know I would never deny myself the company of two beautiful women,Masaki," he chided playfully, following them up the steps with the scarlet suitcases tucked effortlessly under his arms and dangling from his hands.

"How glad I am that Ichigo had to go on that South American trip," said Masaki, squeezing Rukia's shoulders briefly before removing her arm and opening the large front door with its brass knocker. "This is a heaven-sent opportunity for us to get to know one another, Riruka."

Considering the falseness of her masquerade, Rukia thought Masaki was giving credit in the wrong direction. The way her conscience was pricking her, it was more hell-sent.

"Rukia," she corrected quickly, explaining, "My friends call me Rukia instead of Riruka."

Masaki nodded sagely. "Rukia, of course. Riruka is much too harshsounding for someone as lovely as you." They had stopped in the cool hallway that served as an entrance hall, and the silver gilt head turned to Kaien. "Take Rukia's suitcases upstairs to the white bedroom."

"You're special," Kaien slanted Rukia a knowing look. "That room is reserved for Very Important People."

"She's more than that," Masaki corrected, bestowing a warm, loving look on Rukia's tensely poised face. "Now she's family. Our best is never too good for those who belong to us."

Rukia would have preferred that Masaki had disliked her on sight or mercilessly examined her. Anything rather than this wholehearted endorsement as the future wife of her nephew.

"You're embarrassing the girl,Masaki," said Kaien, drawing the woman's attention to the pink dots on Rukia's cheeks.

"No, no, really," Rukia protested at the slightly hurt expression on the older woman's face. "I'm not embarrassed. I… It's… it's only that you don't know me yet. And what if you don't like me when you do?" she asked with a nervous laugh.

"If Ichigo has chosen you to marry," Masaki said reassuringly, "then that's all the endorsement I need."

"Ah, Ichigo," Colin mocked. "The black paragon himself. Although I must admit that I've always admired his taste in the fairer sex and his uncanny ability to find a quantity of quality."

"Those days are over. Now Ichigo has Rukia and he won't need all those other women," Masaki sighed before glancing sideways at Kaien's form. "And I thought I told you to take the luggage upstairs." With a mockingly deferential bow, Kaien complied with her request.

"Excuse me, Rukia," the woman turned back to her, "while I get rid of these flowers and prepare us a drink. Would you like to freshen up or anything first?"

"No, it isn't necessary." Rukia didn't want an opportunity to relax, needing the knife-edged tension to force her to carry through the charade.

"Why don't you wait in the living room, then?" Masaki suggested, ushering Rukia into a brilliant gold and green room. "Kaien will be down in a minute and it shouldn't take me much longer than that."

Cream white walls counterbalanced the rich gold carpeting and the vivid green satin curtains and pale sheer insets. The oak furniture repeated the emerald green with complementing live foliage of lacy ferns and climbing philodendrons scattered throughout the room in colourful planters of green and gold. The ornately scrolled high ceilings were dominated by a classically simple crystal chandelier. It was a bold, vivid room, much like its owner, airy and elegant, bursting with vitality.

The prospect of remaining in this tastefully furnished home under the guise of Riruka Kuchiki, exposed every day to the trusting and loving nature of Masaki Kurosaki seemed to grow more daunting and distasteful every minute she thought about it. Misery forced a long weary sigh to come from the depths of her soul. Why,Rukia wondered to herself, had she been so gullible and allowed herself to be talked into such a situation? The knowledge that she was enabling Riruka to fulfil her childhood dream as an actress while maintaining her engagement to Ichigo and that she was protecting her dear Uncle Rei from a possible suit brought her little comfort now that she was here in Mobile staying under Masaki Kurosaki's roof.

"Do you feel a bit more at ease?" Kaien spoke from the doorway,"Now that you've passed inspection?"

"Actually," Rukia walked to a green sofa and sat down, unwilling for a moment to meet his gentle, inquiring gaze until she could slip back into the role of Ichigo's fiancée, "I'm still a bit overwhelmed."

"Why?" he asked casually, taking a seat in a nearby chair.

"I didn't know what to expect," she smiled weakly. "Ichigo didn't tell me much about Mrs. Kurosaki… Masaki. I hardly expected her to be so young."

"Don't tell Masaki you expected her to be in her dotage," Kaein laughed. "I think she's found the fountain of youth."

"Age is a taboo subject in my house." Masaki appeared in the doorway with a tray of drinks in her hands. A wide smile removed any censure her words might have implied. "I refuse to grow old gracefully. Age is purely relative. It grates my nerves when people say "how old are you?" The French put it much more tactfully when they ask "How many years have you?" It stresses experience instead of deterioration."

"No one could accuse you of the latter,Masaki," Kaien stated.

"It's one of my eccentricities," she replied, directing a smile at Rukia.

"You'll find I have many."

"I don't quite believe that," Rukia smiled, accepting the iced fruit drink.

"I'm disgustingly old-fashioned," Masaki declared. "I still won't fly in a plane regardless of how safe they're supposed to be. I'm a follower of that old saying that if a man was supposed to fly, he would have been given wings. I hate cars and ride in them only when there's no other method of transportation. No, the only two means of travel that I enjoy are horseback riding and walking."

Which was why,Rukia realized, Masaki wouldn't be attending Ichigo and Riruka's wedding.

"Do you ride, Rukia?" Masaki inquired.

"I have ridden," she admitted, since it had been one of the activities at the exclusive girls' school she and Riruka had attended. "But I'm by no means an expert."

"As well as a swimming pool, Masaki has a small stable behind the house," Kaien explained. "She rides every day."

"The Judge, Kaien's father, joins me quite often, and Kaien is always welcome, too." A knowing glance was darted towards the dark-haired man studying Rukia with open admiration. "The rare times that Ichigo is here, he's in the saddle almost constantly."

A few questions from Rukia changed the subject from Ichigo to the horses Masaki owned and into a discussion centred on horses in general. A half hour later Kaien rose to leave against a mild protest from Masaki that it was still early.

"I know the Judge is anxiously awaiting my verdict on your guest," Kaien smiled, extending his hand in good-bye to each in turn, holding Rukia's a little longer.

"The two of you must come over for dinner tomorrow night," Masaki invited.

"I accept your invitation," he nodded, sending a glittering glance towards Rukia. "I'll look forward to seeing you tomorrow."

"Yes," Rukia agreed. "And thank you for meeting me at the airport."

"That was strictly a pleasure." The flecks in his aqua-marine eyes radiated a serene light over her face.

"He's a marvellous young man," Masaki declared after kaien had left. "So charming and kind, like the Judge. He's attracted to you, too," darting a teasing glance at the veiled expression in the dark blue eyes.

In other circumstances Rukia knew she would be attracted to Kaien as well, but the borrowed ring on her finger was the dictator of her life for the present.

She couldn't complicate the situation by becoming too fond of Kaien Shiba.

Unconsciously she touched the cold, hard stone of her ring, drawing Masaki's attention to it.

"As much as I adore Kaien," Masaki continued, a reassuring hand touching Rukia's arm, "I'm glad you met Ichigo first."

"So am I." A tremulous smile didn't add much credence to her lie.

"You're looking tired," the older woman smiled sympathetically. "Let me show you to your room. You'll want to unpack and shower before dinner. You should have time to rest a bit first. I'm afraid I was so excited at finally meeting you that I quite forgot how tiring travelling is."

Rukia freely admitted that the tenseness and strain was in her face, but not from travelling, from maintaining this pretence of being Ichigo's fiancée.

Meekly she followed the Orange-haired woman out of the living room down the wide hallway to the curved staircase leading to the second floor. Gold flocked paper decorated the walls of both hallways with vases of fresh flowers adding further brightness to the sunshine interior.

"I do hope you'll like your room," Masaki said, opening a highly varnished oak door to the right of the landing.

The white room—she had referred to it when Masaki had directed Kaien to bring her suitcases there. Thick white carpet covered the floor with the walls also in white, but a richly quilted bedspread of gold satin was on the oak bed with matching draperies at the windows. Brass lamps flanked the bed with snow-white shades on top. It was elegant without being ostentatious.

"It's beautiful!" Rukia breathed in admiration, walking slowly towards theoak dressing-table where fresh yellow roses turned their newly budding petals towards her.

Then the gilt-framed picture on the bureau came into view, washing thecolour from her face as her knees threatened to buckle. Cold Hazel eyes stared out from an aloofly aristocratic male face. Rukia experienced the same unnerving feeling she had felt the first time she saw Ichigo Kurosaki. It was as if he was in the room, the jeering set of his mouth condemning her a fraud, a liar. Her heart stopped beating and that terrible fear swept over her again

that he would discover this foolish masquerade and send the world crashing down around her.

"I thought you might like to have Ichigo's picture in your room." Masaki's voice came softly from behind Rukia's left shoulder. "It's the only one I have, or I'd give it to you."

"It's a remarkable likeness," Rukia said weakly, unable to break her gaze away from the totally masculine face.

"Do you think so?" the older woman queried, a mild disagreement in her voice. "He looks so hard and cynical in that photograph, but then," she shrugged ruefully, "in many ways he has become that. Money, power and prestige make a potent combination. When you blend those with a forceful personality like Ichigo's it becomes easy to understand how a person can become cynical towards life. I know I'm not telling you something you don't already know, but you'd be surprised at how many people like you for what you possess instead of what kind of person you are. My most profound wish has been that Ichigo would find someone who loved him for himself and not for his money and power. I do believe, my dear, that he has found that woman in you."

"Masaki—" Rukia began with a choking knot of pain in her throat. tears brought an added brilliance to the blue of her eyes surrounded by sooty black lashes.

She couldn't go on with the masquerade. It had to end here and now, before the damage was too great to be mended for Riruka. But her voice couldn't get through the lump in her throat.

The youthfully attractive, Orange-haired woman mistook the acid tears burning Rukia's eyes for tears of gratitude at being accepted as a member of the family.

"You don't have to say anything. I understand." Masaki hugged Rukia's unresisting shoulders and hurried from the room, her own light Hazel eyes filling with happy tears.

The moment of truth was gone, and Rukia was more committed than before to carry out the charade to its inevitable bitter end.

xxxxx

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